


Of The Clouds, The Stars, The Sky

by Macabee



Category: Fallout (Video Games), Fallout 4
Genre: Angst, Attempt at Humor, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Introspection, Mental Health Issues, Mental Instability, Slow Build, Slow Burn, Slow Romance, he finds it as if he's babysitting her at first, i suck at tagging as you all can prob see, maccready has to teach her almost everything about living in the wastes, more tags to come if i end up figuring out how to tag, not mute-just awkward, socially awkward sole, things change, unless i change my mind and its not slow at all
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-06
Updated: 2021-02-11
Packaged: 2021-03-17 11:34:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,709
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29224764
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Macabee/pseuds/Macabee
Summary: In the blur of moments, everything she knew was gone. Her husband dead, her baby gone, her entire world a fragment of what it once was. With no training or nohow about life in the wastes, she had no control over when, where, and how she'd die, or live. She'd lost it all.Except for this.If there was one consistent thing in her life, something she could stare at without it falling out from underneath her, it was the clouds. The stars. The sky. Unchanging, constant, bright. Warm.It was stupid, she knew it was stupid to be so fascinated with it, but it was all she had left of what she once knew.MacCready thought she spent way too much time stuck in the past and was most definitely going to get herself shot when he wasn't around.
Relationships: Robert Joseph MacCready/Female Sole Survivor
Comments: 7
Kudos: 13





	1. Business Pleasantries

He noticed her when she stumbled awkwardly down the railway steps, but then again-so did everyone else. She was pretty. Maybe not the most beautiful person he'd ever seen, but she was.. _clean._ Tanned skin unmarred by a life in the wastes, bright white teeth he hadn't seen in years, not since the last time he'd seen Lone and Butch. Pretty, long and wavy light brown hair that stretched down past her shoulder blades and the little involuntary sway of her hips while she shuffled her feet forward defintely wasn't going unnoticed by anyone. A perfect, pinup bride you'd find on those old prewar magazines you might've been lucky enough to find had just walked into a messy, bloody and extremely unsanitary bar full of equally dirty and disgusting patrons.

She never really did fit in any place she'd found herself in. 

Whether or not she noticed the stares were still yet to be acknowledged as she kept her gaze low, shuffling quickly to the bar and sitting cautiously into the stool next to MacCready. 

MacCready wasn't much for socializing, especially not with dandelions like this. It meant nothing but trouble and he couldn't afford trouble right now. But then he couldn't stop himself from staring as she fidgeted in the rickety, sharp unset metal of her stool, a slight shaking in her hands only those with a sniper's eye could catch as she scrambled around in the knapsack strapped around her torso. He remained watching as she fumbled with a large, tell-tale jingling sack, tremors in her hands causing her to lose grip of the thing and it fell straight between their stools with a loud clunk. 

The eyes on her were hungry, now. 

MacCready couldn't help it, he couldn't just sit here and watch her be eaten by the pack of wolves. And nobody would fuck with her if they saw she was buddy-buddy with MacCready. He tutted under his breath, leaning down in his seat and with a long, outstretched hand, wrapped his fingers around the top of the sack and-only slightly tempted by the surprisingly hefty weight of the sack, straightened and gave her a knowing glance before plopping the sack back down in front of her. 

"You dropped somethin'," he muttered hoarsely, already looking back forward and trying to turn his attentions back to his glass before she could take that as an invitation to-

"I-see that. Thank you." The slight wavering in her voice had MacCready quirking an inquisitive brow, but he wouldn't be asking any time soon. Nope. Three words, that was all the charm he was capable of with dames like this. He wouldn't get in the middle of it, he was just going to sit here and drink himself into a coma again, like usual-

He nudged her with an elbow as he saw her shuffling around in that little sack for a handful of caps, holding a finger up at her startled expression before digging into his duster pocket and waving for Charlie. Ignoring Charlie's snide remarks about his ongoing tab, he plopped his own handful of caps on the counter and turned back to the girl. "What's your poison?" 

She stared, wide eyed and mouth agape and she looked a lot like a fish right now, lips working but no sound coming out as she gulped enough MacCready could see the muscles of her neck tighten under the pressure. "I-you don't need to-" maybe the look he was giving her now was clear enough, maybe she was just smart enough to know not to say no to a free drink-and especially not to say no to Robert Joseph MacCready, because she stopped herself short and gave a short nod. "I'm just-a little hungry is all. Maybe a Cola." 

Robert looked back at Charlie, who if he was allowed the luxury of facial expression, MacCready figured he'd be being set with the most vicious sneer he'd ever seen, tilting his head toward the girl. "You heard the lady, Charlie. A plate of your finest irradiated slop and a tall bottle of Nuka." 

"Real funny how you'll pay for the pretty lasses come washed up here without question, but are suddenly shit poor when it comes to payin' your own tab," Charlie grumbled but before MacCready could retort, was already ducking back behind the counter towards the drinks. 

"I-thank you. I could've paid." 

"Ah, it's nothing." And it was the truth, because he had no idea how he could explain to her why he'd done it-he didn't know the answer to that himself. "You look kinda.." he paused, sucking at his teeth as he scanned the exhaustion tugging harshly at her brown eyes. 

"Like shit?" She snorted, the first bout of confidence since they'd met echoing in her tone. "Yeah, I know. I'm-new to this kinda scene." 

"I could tell," MacCready responded bluntly, catching as her cheeks turned red, ducking her eyes back in front of her. His eyes flicked up as Charlie came floating back over, a plate of salisbury steak and tatos in one claw, a fresh bottle of Nuka in the other. He watched with a small smirk on his lips as she awkwardly thanked the robot, snatching up a fork and knife and slowly cutting into her steak. 

"Do you mind? I'm awkward enough as it is without someone's eyes stuck on me. Wouldn't want this knife going through my finger." 

MacCready, smirk still on his face, turned his attention back to his glass of scotch. "So what brought you out here?" 

"Accidents," she answered curtly. "A whole lot of them. I was supposed to be going to Diamond City, but I guess I got lost and spent the last hour running from humans, zombie humans, and big green Hulks all trying to kill me." There was the slight tremor in her hands again, the skin around her fork growing ghostly pale as she tightened her grip. "This world is-bad." 

MacCready snorted at the oversimplification. "That's an understatement. But I sorta meant, why are you down here of all places? Not exactly a wanderer's paradise." 

"Paradise left with the bombs," she muttered, but shrugged as she popped a piece of steak into her mouth. "Honestly things keep happening so fast I have a hard time discerning fiction from reality. A..man? In a red trenchcoat getup, stabbed some jerkoff in front of me and then told me to come find someone down here that's supposed to help me. I don't know how he knew I was in trouble, I didn't even say a word. He just knew somehow."

"If I may be so bold," MacCready grunted, picking at the blue vault suit getup underneath plates of various worn-out armor, "this vault suit always gives it away. You should think about getting some new duds, vault suits out here make you a prime target." 

"Hmm," she hummed through a sip of cola, swallowing slowly. "Thanks for the advice." 

"Yeah, free of charge too. Next one will cost you extra." She smirked sideways at him, and it left him wondering why he found her so easy to talk to, even if he had his doubts about her. He also had this weird feeling that maybe he didn't want to _stop_ talking to her. "What kind of help are you looking for?" 

She shifted slightly in her seat, shaking her head slightly as she chewed on the same piece of meat she's had in her mouth the past three minutes. "I don't know if anyone could give me the help I need," she joked, swallowing the food in her mouth before turning her head to face MacCready now. He hadn't really noticed it before, but she had a line of freckles bouncing over her nose and littering the skin under her eyes. "The mayor sent me down here to find some guy named MacCready. You wouldn't happen to know where I can find him, do you?" 

A babysitter. MacCready was an exgunner, the bodyguard of the entire town, the best shot in the Commonwealth, and now Hancock was sending him to be some glorified babysitter. It was demeaning, it was ridiculous, it was-and then those eyes, pleading and that expression of abounding hope plastered over every inch of her face..he couldn't find it in him to just say no.

He sighed, squeezing his eyes shut tight as he quickly downed the rest of his glass. He watched as he twirled the glass between his fingers, lingering perspiration leaving a small trail on the bar counter. 

He turned back to the girl, offering a business-pleasured smile over the feeling of insurmountable displeasure he was riddled with as he stuck out his hand. 

"Yeah, you're looking at him. I'm MacCready. Good to meet you."


	2. Trouble in Not-Paradise

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Holy shit I didn't expect such a well-received first chapter! I can't thank y'all enough, really! ❤️  
> So I absolutely adore Hancock's character and his easygoing, wise beyond his years attitude so I'm already gonna be plastering him with a role in the story. This chapter will be slightly angsty, use of canon and also canon-divergence.  
> Hope y'all enjoy!

A swift kick to the bone of his shin wasn't entirely the worst way he'd been woken up,but fuck did he feel he had the right to complain. He ripped his hat from his vision, ready to put a hole in between the eyes of whoever the fuck had just signed their death warrants, halting at exactly who was standing in front of him. Or, worse yet, _whos._

 _"_ Can't say I'm surprised to find you in a dump like this, MacCready."

MacCready groaned, sneering as menacingly as he could muster in his still groggy state at the ugly mugs of his two former bosses. A little relieved neither of them seemed to be packing, but still on edge as he feigned an air of unbothered greeting. "Winlock! It's been so long since I've seen that beautiful face of your's! It's been-hell, don't tell me it's actually been three months? Don't tell me you're getting _rusty!"_

"Cut the shit, MacCready. We're not here to start a fight." 

MacCready's scowl deepened. "You and I both know that's not true. Maybe you didn't come here with a full metal jacket, but if I knew you at all, you're here on a pussy threat." 

Winlock chuckled darkly, back eyes glinting mercilessly in the red hue of his room. "Such a smart mouth you got on you, always getting you into more trouble than you're worth." 

"Let's take this outside then, and I'll show you just how much trouble I can be." MacCready's eyes flicked momentarily to movement out of the corner of his eyes, stomach twisting at the sight of his infuriatingly oblivious new hire making her way to the room. 

"Listen up, MacCready," Winlock sneered, forcing MacCready's attention back to him. "You can play the tough guy act all you want, but we heard you're still taking jobs in the Commonwealth. You see how this is a problem, don't you?" 

"Far be it for me to cause a problem," MacCready groaned, swiftly standing from the chair to distract them both from the Boss who'd just unknowingly walked into a ticking time-bomb. "In case you and your girlfriend here forgot, I left the Gunners for good. I don't have to listen to you, or any of them, anymore. Now why don't you two get the hell out of here before ol' Hancock catches wind your sorry asses stepped foot in his little town and he 'takes care' of you just like he did the last sorry sods that tried me?" 

Winlock stood firm, mouth a tight line while Barnes, as stupid as ever, stood just behind Winlock with a dumb expression on his face. "You can't hide behind your precious ghoul buddy forever, MacCready. You keep ignoring the Gunners, and we'll make you regret it." 

"Yeah, I'd like to see you try," MacCready spat, eyes flicking quickly toward his Boss, shouting red flag warnings at her that thank God she picked up, because she quickly ducked back out of the room, disappearing back toward the bar. MacCready turned his glare back at Winlock, nodding his head firmly toward the door. "So here's how this is going to go. You're going to either walk out that door for good and leave me the hell alone, or you're not going to be walking out of this room at all." He reached behind him and his hands found the familiar, cool metal of his rifle as he set it in his hands, the resounding click of a bullet moving into it's chamber as he glared menacingly at the two. "Your choice." 

Neither of them made any move to leave, until MacCready shrugged and trained his rifle on Winlock's head. He suddenly jumped, hands going up in surrender. " _Fine,"_ he hissed, eyes narrowed shockingly at him. "Fine, your fucking win. For now. This is far from over, though." He turned his head toward Barnes, tossing it toward the door and started making his way out. 

MacCready sighed, slamming back down into his chair and rubbing furiously at his eyes, not bothering to look up when he heard new footsteps come into the room. 

"Are-you okay?" Her voice was soft, concerned, and MacCready might've actually appreciated it if he wasn't so fucking _tired._

"Just peachy." He stood abruptly, strapping his rifle to his back and shouldering the travel pack he'd stocked with his usual odds and ends, looking at her expectantly. "We heading out?" 

She stood, eyes wide and mouth agape again, tossing a look over her shoulder before looking back at him, eyes narrowed. A pit of terror settled in his stomach that maybe she'd pieced two-and-two together, maybe she figured out he really _was_ more trouble than he was worth and she'd be calling it all off and demanding her caps back. He'd give them back, probably, but _fuck_ did he need this job. He hadn't had a job in almost a full month, and he knew more than to think Duncan could last much longer without another few hundred caps for medicines. 

"Who were they?" She asked, her tone much less acidic than MacCready expected. 

"A bunch of nobodies looking to settle a score," he'd muttered unconvincingly. She quirked a brow, and he waved her off. "Look, they're not important. Don't worry about it." 

She was still and quiet for a long few seconds, eyes narrowed and scanning him surreptitiously, MacCready feeling his resolve slip further and further away ever second that passed under that scrutinizing glare, before she finally nodded. "Alright, if you say so. Let's go." 

A wave of relief washed through him as he eagerly followed her out of that piss-stained bar.

* * *

They hadn't even gotten three steps out of The Third Rail when MacCready found himself walking alone, his new Boss stuck standing completely still, head stuck staring above her. "Hey!" He called after her, watching her flinch and blink as if he'd just woken her from a deep sleep as her tawny browns widened at him. "Are you alright?"

"I-" she paused, fidgeting with her fingers before stretching them out, jogging to catch up with MacCready. "Yes, I'm fine. Sorry."

"Whatever," MacCready put on an air of nonchalance, but kept an inquisitive, judgemental glare between her shoulder blades as she led them around Goodneighbor, taking odd jobs and familiarizing herself with the town and the people nice enough to give her a second glance. 

What the fuck was that?

And then, once she'd milked the last job out of Hancock'd little groupies that she could, they'd stepped outside the state house to a sky well past the afternoon. She had the decency to look sheepish as she told MacCready they'd set out for Diamond City the next day.

Except he once again found himself without a partner as they began their trek to Hotel Rexford to bed down for the night. 

He was more than pissed now, and whether that was because of his rude awakening this morning, his impatience with her incessant need to know the first and last names of every drifter, merc and nobody in this town, or just because he was fucking exhausted, he didn't care to find out. 

"You're doing it again." 

She jumped at the sudden break from her reverie, turning back toward her companion with a bashful glow to her cheeks. "Sorry. I-what?"

MacCready didn't reply exactly to that inquiry, instead staring at her as if she were the strangest, _stupidest_ thing he'd ever seen before turning his pretty blues-a color much like the sky in the afternoon-up to the vast sky above them. "I don't know what the big deal is. It's just a sky."

 _Because it's not just a sky, MacCready,_ she wanted to say. _You've got no idea how privileged you are to be able to look up and see such vibrant colors. You've got no idea how important it is that you can look up at the sky and it doesn't come crumbling down on you right before your eyes. You've got no idea how beautiful the sky is._ She cleared her throat, wiping her cold and clammy palms on the soft fabric covering her legs. "I-it's not, really-I could explain it to you-"

"Forget it," MacCready said coldly, eyes snapping back down to her's, a hard-coal tint to them as they regarded her. "You're not even watching the road. You said it yourself, you can barely scrape by as it is without getting distracted every ten seconds. It's like you're just asking to die." 

The silence between them at the admission was deafening. How _could_ he? How could he even dare presume to know anything about her? Assuming her intentions, doubting her resolve, predicting her demise as if it was something as natural as taking a breath. As if she didn't have every reason to be out here, fighting for her very life. As if she didn't deserve to be able to _try._ To make what was left of her family, her heart, whole again. 

She became slack in her movements, eyes cast down so the bastard in front of her didn't have the liberty of seeing the tears blurring the edges of her vision. With her fingernails dug deeply in her palms, she took a deep breath but kept her steely gaze on the toes of her boots. "I'm going to Diamond City in the morning. If you really think I'm such a burden, if you really believe I'm dead walking, then don't be at the town gates when I get there. Keep the caps I gave you and spend the rest of your miserable days drowning yourself in your scotch, for all I care."

And before he could respond, she was pushing roughly past him and disappearing into the front door of the Hotel Rexford.

MacCready, feeling only a slight sting of guilt, threw his hands frustratingly over his head. 

So she didn't want help anymore? Fine. Let her ass die as soon as she stepped foot outside then, for all he cares. He already got the money, and she demanded he keep it, didn't she? Why the hell should he care what happened to her after that? It's not like they're best buddies or any shit like that, he couldn't afford to care even if he actually wanted to. 

The caps she'd given him burned and dragged in his pocket, but before he could let it sink in _why_ they felt so heavy, he was already on his way back down to the Third Rail for a drink. 

* * *

She had to fight back the tears threatening to blind her as she burst into the front doors of the Hotel Rexford, bombarded by the none-too-friendly penny pincher at the front desk.

"Look, before you start, we got rooms. 10 caps a night. I don't give a shit about any sob stories you have, I run a business, not a charity. Do-"

Before she could finish, she'd already tossed 10 caps on the counter wordlessly. "Which room's mine?" 

The receptionist raised a surprised brow, but merely shrugged, scooping the caps into her hand. "Your room's on the very top floor, all the way down the hallway-last door on the right." 

She nodded, not giving anyone a second glance as she bit back a heavy sob in her throat, rubbing furiously at her eyes as she raced up the stairs and to the room she'd been directed to. Making sure to lock the chainlock behind her, she sunk down to the ground, bringing her knees up to her chest as her back pressed against the hard wood of the door, and, finally alone, she let her sobs break free. 

Who was she fooling anyway? MacCready was a real asshole, but damn, he was _right,_ wasn't he? Sure, maybe she had the heart and drive behind her to find her son, maybe she had _meant_ it when she told Nate she'd get Shaun back, but what the fuck does having a heart do her in a place like this? She could barely even _lift_ a gun, let alone shoot one. Truthfully, if it wasn't for Codsworth guiding her around the shambles of what used to be her home and toasting the rodents before they could get her, Dogmeat keeping the raiders off her heels or Preston sending calculated, perfect blast after blast into that Deathclaw back at Concord, she'd have been dead a long time ago. It was a miracle upon miracles she'd even made it this far without getting her head blown off her shoulders-it's not like she'd tried standing her ground against the onslaught of hostiles on her way up here. She'd just snuck by or ran her ass off and prayed to whatever God might be left she'd make it out alive. 

She was hopeless, helpless, alone, and she'd just lost her only chance of getting her son out alive. 

She found enough will to stand on shaky legs, wobbling over to the sole matress in the huge but somehow still suffocating room, and plopping face first into it, kicking her shoes off and curling in on herself, sobbing pitifully into her coat. 

Blinking as the tears fell rapidly down her cheeks, breath coming in short, gasping patterns, she brought a hand up to the Pip-Boy strapped firmly around her wrist. Fiddling with the dials until she knew she was in the right place, her fingers foubd the cool surface of the button and pressed play. 

_"Hi, honey!"_

She closed her eyes tightly, sobs vibrating her entire being as she hugged her arm to her chest like it was Nate himself, numbly listening to his soothing voice, the giggles Shaun gave that used to light up her heart leaving nothing but an empty chasm where it used to be now. 

She shuddered as Nate, her Nate, said with such finality and sincerity that he loved her, eyes shut so tight she saw stars. 

"I'm sorry Nate." She whispered, feeling new tears build in her eyes. "I'm so sorry." 

She clicked play again. 

* * *

"Give me a beer, Charlie." MacCready said gruffly, plopping down on the stool in front of him and tossing an assortment of caps at him. 

"MacCready? Da hell 'ryou doin' back 'ere? Thought you was cartin' that bombshell around?" 

MacCready sighed, already feeling a headache coming on as he pinched the bridge of his nose, eyes shut tight. "Just get me the damn beer, alright?" 

Charlie huffed, but be that as it may, MacCready heard the distant _whirring_ as Charlie backed away from him to retrieve a bottle. As soon as the beer was placed in front of him, he greedily grabbed it and tossed his head back, the lukewarm liquid flowing easily down his throat. He'd already downed half the bottle in one swallow, and one look back at Charlie had him begrudgingly disappearing for another. 

A lot of people knew better than to bother MacCready when he was holed up on a tyrant binger, and he couldn't blame them for it. The last guy that tried drilling into his problems left the bar with a permanent shiner on his shattered nose. And it certainly didn't bother MacCready any to be left alone, he'd been alone for a lot longer than he hadn't been after all. 

That being said, _most_ everyone knew to leave him alone. There was still some self-sacrificial idiot that didn't know when to leave well enough alone. 

"MacCready! Hey brother!'' A hard smack on MacCready's back had him choking and sputtering on his swallow of beer, but the perpetrator-Hancock himself, didn't seem to give a shit as he sunk into the stool next to MacCready with a long, tired sigh. "Heya, Whitechapel. Hook me up with whatever doesn't taste the most like it's been aged in a shoe, wouldn't ya?" 

"Hancock! I didn't know you was coming in today, I woulda saved something cold for you."

"Ah, don't worry about it, Big Man." Hancock waved him off, looking back at MacCready with a suggestive tilt of his head. "Just pass me whatever he's having, won't you?" 

"Of course, Hancock! Comin' right up." 

Hancock smirked, sighing happily as Charlie ducked back behind the bar, stretching his arms languidly over his head before settling them haphazardly on the counter in front of him. Tossing his head over his shoulder, he fixed MacCready with a calm smile. "How goes it, brother?" 

MacCready rolled his eyes, groaning. "She sent you here, didn't she?" He ignored when Hancock lifted the muscles where his eyebrows had once been, downing the last of his beer with a loud and unabashed belch. "Look, I don't need some babysitter come to drag me into some hippy therapy session, alright? _S_ _he's_ the one that walked out on _me,_ not the other way around."

Hancock scoffed, a hearty chuckle falling from his lips as he waved his thanks to Charlie who'd just dropped off his drink. He looked back to MacCready, sincere smirk on his lips. "What, there's trouble in paradise already? Damn, what happened this time?" 

MacCready halted, holding the glass of the new bottle of beer against his bottom lip. "Wait, she didn't send you?''

Hancock shook his head seriously, smug smile on his lips as he took a large gulp of his beer. Immediately, his smirk soured into a grimace. "Eugh, either my tastebuds are finally dying off or our stock's really turned sour over the years." He shook his head disdainfully at the bottle, pushing it away from him before he regarded MacCready again with a firm expression. "Nah, Bobby, I haven't seen that little lass since she was getting frisked by Finn. I had no idea you two were already on a rift. I actually came down here to ask a little about this Gunner rumor I heard about this morning, but I see you're not really in the mood to hash that up right now." He scratched at a patch of skin underneath his tricorner hat, and MacCready was comfortable enough around him he didn't try to hide his grimace as flakes of skin came off under what was left of his fingernails. "Care to enlighten me about your little spat?" 

MacCready sighed exhaustedly, dropping his head between his shoulders as his hands twirled the still half-full bottle of beer around on the bar. "Not really in the mood for another one of your 'lessons,' Hancock." 

"Aw, come on Brother! Since when has any one of my 'lessons' ever done you more bad than good?" Hancock smirked, and MacCready couldn't help but let the corner of his lip twitch slightly, because that was actually a good point. "C'mon Bobby, I might not have the red couch, but I really would like to know what's got you so bothered." 

MacCready sighed out a long exhale of breath, pursing his lips as he regarded Hancock with a thoughtful expression. Finally, he groaned, downing the last half of his beer before he wiped the perspiration lingering on his lips, turning in his stool slightly to face Hancock. "Fine." 

"Well, sounds like you let that little short-fused temper of yours fuck things up, RJ," Hancock said smugly as MacCready finished up his tale. 

MacCready blanched, fixing Hancock with a steely glare. "How in the hell is that supposed to make me feel better?" 

Hancock shrugged, a stern but considerate look plastered on his face as he took a sip of the considerably better tasting scotch Charlie had dropped off. "I never said I was out to make you feel better, cause that shit ain't gonna do none of you any good in the long end." He swallowed his gulp of alcohol, looking at him pointedly. "I think you need to go make your apologies to the lady, Mac."

"What?" MacCready scoffed incredulously. "And why the hell would I need to do that? She's the one that freaked out! It's better this way anyway, she's damn crazy, Hancock. She stares at the sky like it's the first time she's seen it every ten seconds we're outside, she's easily distracted, she doesn't know the first thing about shooting a gun _or_ living in the wastes, and I certainly don't have the time or patience to be her babysitter. She's far too nice to make it out here, she's so _damn_ infuriating and she's gonna get herself killed on her ow-" MacCready counted on his fingers, halting short on the last one. Fuck, why did that last one scare him so much to say? They weren't friends. They barely even knew eachother. He didn't even know her _name._

Hancock watched with a smug smile as realization struck his younger friend like a bullet to the head, skin paling slightly and previously strong and sturdy hands falling limp on his lap. His strong and confident resolve immediately dissolved into slightly panicked concern, and his big blue eyes looked desperately at Hancock. He smirked, cupping a hand over his shoulder. "Give her some credit, Mac. She might not be the best shot like you, but she made it her all on her own didn't she? That was out of pure will. Something's driving her to survive, and it's doing a hell of a job. You ever bother to ask her why she's so fascinated with the sky, anyway?" 

MacCready thought back and winced at how cruel he was to her when she had tried explaining herself. "Fu-frigg," he whispered, shaking his head slightly. 

"Look, RJ. I get that you're weary, and you're just trying to look out for your son and all, but this is the first line of money you've had in weeks. You can't blow that just because of your stubborn pride. Neither of us know a damn thing about her and what she's gone through, and it's downright asshole-ish to just assume that we do."

MacCready groaned because _fuck,_ why did Hancock always have to be so right about everything? He dropped his head against the bar counter, hitting his skin against the cool surface a few times before he titled his head at Hancock with a pout. "I ever tell you how much I hate you?" 

Hancock chuckled with mirth, clapping MacCready on the back again and leaning away to down the rest of his drink. "I'll take being hated over being wrong any day. Now get your sorry ass up and go apologize to the woman, you bastard." 

MacCready huffed, landing a mock punch on Hancock's arm before dragging his sluggish, slightly alcohol-weary body out of the stool and up the stairs toward Hotel Rexford. 

"You see somethin' there too, don't ya, Hancock?" Charlie ushered himself in the conversation when he no longer saw MacCready on the steps. 

"A real match made in Heaven," Hancock smirked as he nodded at Charlie. "Hit me with another drink, won't you?" 

* * *

She jumped awake to the sound of incessant pounding, sighing inwardly as she peeled her tear-crusted eyelids open. Groggily, she groaned as she realized her husband's holotape was still playing along on repeat, turning it off and laying back against the bed, willing herself to wake up enough to investigate whatever the hell just woke her up. 

And then the pounding started again. She hated that she had to feel so panicked at the sound of someone knocking at her door, but still, she reached over to where she'd discarded her gun belt, hand wrapping around the grip of her revolver as she peered at the door anxiously. "Wh-who is it?" 

"It's MacCready," the voice on the other side of the door replied. 

Immediately, the dread filtering in her stomach was replaced with perturbed anger, and she took her grip off her gun. "What do you want?" 

"Won't you let me in?" The voice drawled, and her annoyance only spiked as she noticed the slight slurring in his voice. So he was drunk, probably pissed at her, and was standing just outside her door. That combination always ended fairly in her own experience. 

"Not until you tell me what you want," she yelled back sternly, sitting up in bed and crossing her arms, waiting for his reply. 

She heard a long sigh from the other side of the door, then heard a loud thud that startled her slightly until she heard a dragging noise against the door as if he was dragging his body to sit against the door. "I'm sorry," he finally said. 

She paused, lips parted slightly as pleasant surprise raced through her stomach now. In all her experiences, when someome showed up drunk and sad at her door, they'd come only to tell her how everything was her fault, and that she'd drawn them to the state they were in. To say she was relieved would be a slight understatement. Still, a shoddy two words would never be enough to completely satiate the raw hurt and anger he'd caused her. She crossed her arms again, looking at the door with a stern expression as if it was him standing there and not slouched on the other side of the door. "And you're sorry for what, exactly?" 

Another long sigh and a loud thud that she assumed was his head hitting the door. "I'm sorry I was such an as-butthole earlier. I don't know the slightest thing about you, and it was a jerkoff move to assume that I did. You've probably figured it out by now that I've got a really short temper. Those guys from this morning had already pushed me to my limits, and what happened with us lit the fuse. And you didn't deserve that. So I'm sorry." 

She was completely silent for a long while, long enough that she heard shuffling on the other side of the door and then a resounding knock of knuckles against wood. "You still there?" 

She bit back the chuckle in her throat, refraining from joking about all the places she could've gone, trapped in a room with no windows or other means of escape. She sighed, bare feet padding against the tattered carpet of the floor as she made her way to her door, swallowing her apprehension as she slowly undid the chainlock, opening the door and letting out a little yelp as she had to jump back from MacCready's torso smacking bodily to the floor halfway in her room. 

He looked up at her, brow slowly furrowing together as his inebriance made his reaction times slow. "Ouch," he finally mumbled. 

She couldn't help but lightly chuckle as she leaned down, wrapping her hands under his armpits. "C'mon Big Guy, let's get you inside, yeah?" 

He made no nove to help as she was forced to drag his lardass into the room on her own, grunting as she gently placed his upper body down, stepping over him to close the door and lock it behind them.

He slowly lifted himself on his elbows, looking around at the room deliriously before setting his pretty, slightly bloodshot blues on her. "Does this mean you forgive me?" 

She snorted, but crossed her arms. "What you did? That hurt." MacCready's face darkened into the closest sobering look he could muster, nodding understandably. "You can't do that again, you got that?"

MacCready nodded again. "Got it. I'll try to be better, promise." 

She hummed, satisfied as she padded back over to him, hooking an arm around him. "I'll forgive you if you help me get your fatass into bed, yeah?" 

"Fatass?" MacCready slurred in drunken offense. "I'm probably the skinniest man you've ever met." 

She snorted, tilting her head side to side in mock consideration. "Doesn't mean you're not a lot heavier than you look. C'mon." 

It took some serious goading, but they finally worked together enough to make MacCready stand, taking small, wavering steps before finally coming to the foot of the bed, where he slid his arm from her grasp and plopped face-first into the bed. She smirked as she watched him fight to get comfortable in the pillows and blankets she'd brought along, stopping all of a sudden and whipping his head up from the mountain of pillows he'd burrowed into. 

"Wait, where'ryou gonna sleep?" He slurred, and her heart stirred violently at how he was still concerned about her comfort in his severely inebriated state. 

"Don't worry about it," she responded, leaning down and fighting with him to keep his legs still as she pulled off his boots and socks, setting them beside the bed. She walked to the other side of the bed, pulling out a canteen of cold, purified water from her bag and setting it on the nightstand next to his head. Leaning down, she yoinked a pillow from his utopia and smiled slightly at the pitiful whine of protest. Peeling off one layer of blanket, she nodded toward the couch in the corner of the room. "I got the couch.''

MacCready stared at her with sullen eyes, shaking his head. "No, lemme-"

"It was hard enough getting you into this bed," she reasoned with a laugh in her tone, pushing him back against the bed and pulling the blanket back around his legs and feet. "You're staying here. I don't mind the couch." She nodded toward the canteen. "There's some water on the nightstand for when the alcohol dries out and you get thirsty. If you feel like throwing up," she paused, reaching back over the bed and pulling her bag up onto the foot of the bed, rooting around until she found something that could be used as a puke bucket. Selling on a large bowl she'd previously used for cooking-definitely not now, she waved it in front of his face. "Use this. I'm putting it on the floor by the bed, okay?" She looked back to see his eyelids had already fluttered shut, his breathing beginning to slow. "Hey," she snapped her fingers just above his face, jostling his arm slightly. 

"Yeah yeah, I got it," MacCready muttered as she'd pulled him to just above consciousness. 

She smiled satisfyingly. "Good," she retorted, walking over to flip off the only working room light before sinking down into the couch, beating the pillow into a comfortable wad under her head and draping the blanket over her. 

It was silent, lest for MacCready's heavy, slow breathing when she finally decided to break it again. 

"MacCready?" 

She heard an unceremonious snort, his breathing breaking to just above consciousness again. "Hmm?" He muttered, a hint of annoyance in his tone that made her smirk slightly. 

"Thank you. For coming back." 

It was silent for a while after that, and she'd just settled against her pillow and closed her eyes when he heard him again. 

"You're welcome," the first coherent thing he'd said in a long while before almost immediately dropping into snores again. 

She smiled warmly, closing her eyes and letting herself soon follow MacCready into sleep.


	3. Things to Lose

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! Wanna say thank you again for the love you've shown on this fic, and also I invite you to comment all you want on it! Some of you have already started and I appreciate that so much! I absolutely adore talking to people in the fandom, and I humbly welcome any constructive criticism, suggestions, or overall feelings about how the story is progressing!  
> Thank you all again! ❤️❤️

"I think it's a good idea. I know there's not a lot left to marvel at out here these days, but we're still alive. There's still plenty of people, just like us, wandering around, wishing the world could be better. _Thinking_ it could be better, knowing it could be better. Then it gets them to start questioning what they could do to make it better. Sure, there's people out there only living off surviving, but if we can find enough people out there that want more for the world, it could be so much better out here. People wouldn't have to fight tooth and nail everyday just to scrape by. It could be like before." She paused from her work organizing her very disorganized pack, wincing at the thought that she'd let too much slip. It's not that she didn't _want_ to tell Mac about where she'd come from, it's that she didn't suppose she _needed_ to. There wasn't a thing anybody could do to give her those 200 years of what could have been back. For now, all anybody could do was keep their head up and stay on their toes, and if you were lucky enough to have a strong will or a reason to keep fighting, then you were luckier than most. Maybe she didn't know much of anything about life out here, but that she did. 

She looked up to MacCready, who was still a lump on her bed as he was when she'd attempted to wake him ten minutes ago, but she noticed he had moved slightly and that his eyes were cracked open a tiny smidge as they regarded her. "What do you think?" She asked almost quickly, genuine curiosity a ploy to get the heat off her slipup.

MacCready let out a long, pitiful sigh as his eyes fluttered shut, a hand brushing against his forehead as a silent wince contorted his facial features. "I _think_ that you really enjoy the sound of your own voice," he stretched out syllable by syllable, voice hoarse and dramatically pained. 

She rolled her eyes, fixing him with a half-humorous glare as her hands moved to search in her pack for something. "Remember when we talked about you being nicer?" She questioned, albeit with a lighter tone of voice. "Because right now, you're really kinda ass at it." 

She found what she was looking for, hands gripping the side of the cold metal firmly as she saw MacCready slowly lift his head to peek out an eyeball at her. Something about his eyes up close-like the color of an ocean but unlike when a storm would hit, casting the waves in a dark grey shade-more like the bright blues cascading against Florida's sandy white beaches in the mid-day sun-it was absolutely mesmerizing to her. She almost dropped what she was holding out of the attention she was bringing that singular eye, before she righted herself and MacCready's mouth slowly parted. 

"There's really no nice way to put it, Boss. You haven't seen what I have, much less lived it. You still have fresh, optimistic eyes because you haven't been here to experience just how shitty the world and it's inhabitants are." His head slowly arched back to test against the pillows, both eyes open and staring blankly at the ceiling. "The world is full of bad things, and even more terrible people. It's been like this for too long and it wouldn't make any sense trying to change any of that. Scraping by is all you can do. The nicest thing I can tell you right now, Boss, is to stop being so sure you can change things. This place ain't worth it."

The air around her was heavy with the somber news, her jaw set tight in protest at the tone of his voice-as if he'd just given up. And of course, judging by his demeanor, he already had. 

But she couldn't. Damn, she couldn't. Not only because she refused to raise her son in a world where he'd have to genuinely fear going to sleep every night wondering if he'd get to wake up, but because she wouldn't accept that this was the way the world was now. Warring over eachother over a world that'd already seen the worst of what war could bring, repeating history because there were no rules, no structure, no docile stability they could lean on that told them living isn't surviving. She'd never had the opportunity to see if she could be a good mom, but she'd sure as hell fight for that now-and when she had him, she'd never rest until she would make this world a place worth living in. 

She swallowed thickly, back to the present as she stood with the metal object in her hands, not bothering to quiet the clonking of her boots against the floor as she walked to where MacCready was laying as a lump on the bed. She reached out, snatching one of his arms and ignoring his look of shock as she placed the flask in the center of his hand. "Here, drink this." 

Slowly, never taking his eyes off her, he brought the flask to rest under his nose. His eyebrow shot up skeptically at the slight fruity smell of the concoction. "What is it?" 

"Hangover remedy," she answered shortly, helping him as he tried to sit up in bed. "Banana yucca fruit juice, cactus flower water and ground-up med-X pills. Tastes like shit, but does the charm." Once she was sure he was upright, she stepped back from the bed, retrieving her pack and throwing it over her shoulder. Her hand was already on the knob to the hotel door before she tossed her head over the side of her shoulder. "I'll give you a little bit to get ready. Meet me in the lobby when you're done." 

And then MacCready was left, rancid concoction hanging loosely in his hand as he stared at the door and wondered what the hell it was he did to piss her off now. 

* * *

If there was anything he could give the Boss credit for, she certainly knew her tonics. It most definitely tasted like shit, she was absolutely right, and he had to hold back the gag before last night's bad attempt at feeling better could make it's reappearance. But despite all that, the pounding pressure sending painful pulses through his entire head numbed, and in mere minutes there wasn't even a slight throb. Quickly, he redressed and hurriedly shoved everything he'd discarded back into his pack before rushing out of the hotel room, closing the door behind him. 

When he made it down to the lobby, he looked around and found the Boss talking to that crackhead Joe that used to frequent the Third Rail before Charlie had him thrown out for constantly trying to steal his bread and butter. Judging by the look on her face, he'd guessed he was probably giving her that draped out schpeel about the wonders of Buffjet with a whiskey chaser. He smirked when her pleading brown eyes found him, slowly making his way over. 

"Yeah, I get it. Jet's cool. But what was that you were saying about the Gunners?" 

MacCready halted, skin feeling like ice as he stood a few feet behind his boss. Had she figured it out? Had this drunken asshole opened his mouth a little too wide? Was this some fricked-up play before she'd turn on him and demand his life or her caps, or both? 

He remained utterly speechless as his wide eyes fixed on Fred. 

"Huh? What did I-whatdidisay oh yeah! The Gunners!" The Boss sighed, cradling her head in one hand and MacCready couldn't help but snicker through his panic at her reaction. Fred didn't seem to notice her displeasure, eyes bright and smile wide as he recounted. "Rumor has it there's this weird, highly experimental drug down at the old hallucinogen building that's supposed to be out of this world! Problem is, the Gunners, those high end mercenaries? They've already made a base there and everything. But if you could sneak in, grab a vial or two of that precious gas, I could pay you. 200 caps." 

There were several things wrong with this plan, MacCready decided. Most of which would be a danger for him to acknowledge, but the biggest being that 200 caps was absolute shit pay for the job. However, before he had the chance to open his big mouth and make that clear, the Boss beat him to it. 

"You offer's a liiiitttle low, Fred." 

Maybe she had her quirks, her infuriating desire to make this world a better place, but she was stingy too. A real penny pincher, silver tongued viper after MacCready's own heart. He could kiss her right-his cheeks flushed a burning red at that last thought, ducking his head out of sight as their conversation continued.

"Alright, alright, I see where you're coming from. How bout we make it, 250?"

The prideful smile on Fred's fave at his offer quickly dwindled as he saw that hard-set look on the Boss's face. "Not good enough," she said thickly, an air of authority about her that _really_ had Mac's blood pumping. "You said there's already a crew of mercs there." 

"I-I did say that, didn't I?" MacCready saw as Fred's adam's apple bobbed under the Boss's scrutinizing gaze. "How about we make it 300 caps?" 

MacCready might've even taken the job at that point, but let it be said that when the Boss wanted something enough, she'd stop at nothing to get it. And damn did that honeyed tongue do her all kinds of favors on that front. "C'mon, Fred. Goodneighbor's full of chem addicts. You have more than enough to fund this job." 

"Alright, you got me!" His voice was awfully light-hearted for hos defeated he looked, MacCready noticed with a smug attitude brimming his lips. Frigg, did the Boss just win a shitton of approval cards from MacCready just then. "We'll make it 400 caps, but that's all I can put out, I swear!" He'd put his hands up beside his face for emphasis, but MacCready wasn't too sure he didn't just do that because the Boss had scared the piss out of him. It made him smirk either way. 

The Boss smiled, a cocky, calculated smile as she carefully pat Fred on the shoulder. "Alright, you've got a deal, Fred." 

An exhale of relief from Fred, one of awe from MacCready had her eyes flicking to him, a small smirk pulling at the corners of them before she set her gaze back on Fred and immediately her features stoned into business first again. "Aw, thank you!" Fred clasped her hand greedily and MacCready didn't bother to hide his snort at her shocked grimace-its not like Fred would even realize he'd done it after all. "Thank you!''

"Uhhh, yeah," the Boss uttered with a thinly-veiled disgusted scowl as she pulled her hand from his grimey pair, a line of _some_ kind of juice following it. "We'll see what we can do." Hurriedly wiping her hand meticulously on the fabric of her vault suit, she pushed past Fred, taking MacCready's arm and yanking him out like MacCready imagined a mother might have done to a child who'd just caused a scene in public. "Another reason people need to want to make this world better-" the Boss muttered when they were far enough away from Fred, staring at her smudged hand in utter disdain. "People need showers. _Long, **ardous**_ showers." 

MacCready let out a light chuckle that the Boss hoped he didn't see reddened her cheeks, reaching behind him into the corner of his pack and depositing a clean enough rag. She snatched it greedily, and whether that was because she really, _really_ enjoyed the idea of being clean, or that she didn't want to take the chance of MacCready catching her flushed, she'd never admit. "You impressed me," MacCready offered as she scrubbed like she was on a mission, small smile pulling at his lips as she stopped still. "Back there, with Fred. Wasn't sure you had it in you to talk the deal up like that." 

"Yeah, well," she sighed, tossing the dirtied rag back at him and focusing on something ok that Pip-Boy on her arm. "I might want a better world but even I have my limitations. Plus, I have to be able to make a living out here if I want to even have a chance at rebuilding it. Wasn't about to walk into a deathtrap on _that_ offer."

MacCready offered a small hum of affirmation, stuffing the rag back into his bag's side pocket. "I thought we were going to Diamond City?" 

She looked up from her PipBoy finally, nodding. "We are. I just wanted to make sure I have the assurance of caps to fall back on for when things get tight. They're not necessarily an easy find out there." She flicked her head to the side, gesturing him to follow. "C'mon then, let's get outta- _oof!"_

Immediately as he saw the Boss fall, MacCready was pulling the pistol out of his belt and aiming it at the back of the guy who'd fallen with her. "Get the hell off her, I won't ask twice." The guy at least had sense enough to listen, scrambling to get away as he scoot on the floor helplessly, facing MacCready with a panicked expression.

He heard a small grunt as the Boss stood, a small pressure on his arm as she pressed her hand to it. "MacCready, it's-" when she got a good look at the guy who'd just plowed into her, her breath hitched. Her hand fell limply off his arm, and he chanced a side-glance at her, brows furrowed in confusion. "It's-okay. Are you-from the-the vault?" 

The ghoul on the floor looked up at her wearily, face softening quickly in revelation as he regarded her. "I don't believe it. It's you, from Sanctuary Hills. Margot Porter, right?" 

MacCready lowered his gun now, eyeing his panting boss with a baffled expression. "What's, who's this? What's going on?" 

The Boss whipped her eyes to his, as if just remembering he was there. She opened her mouth to reply, say _anything_ but nothing would come out. The guy on the ground didn't even seem to recognize her panic, continuing as he picked himself from the floor. "I don't understand. How do you still-look so _perfect?_ After all this time!"

A pit of insatiable, panicked dread seemed to bottom out in MacCready's chest now as he narrowed his eyes at his boss. "What's he talking abou-" 

"MacCready, go wait outside." Her voice was suddenly firm, despite the pale palor of her skin. 

MacCready grounded himself, shaking his head. "No, I have a right to-"

"MacCready," her biting, venomous tone cut him off short. She leveled him with a hard, devilish glare as she nodded toward the front doors. "Go. Wait. Outside." 

And as much as he wanted to object, to hold his ground, to scream, he found his body working past his mind and sooner than he realized, he was outside, head in his hands as he slouched against the brick wall of the Hotel Rexford.

* * *

It felt like he was standing there, stewing dangerously in his thoughts for years before she finally emerged from the Hotel, merely soaring him with a single, blank stare before walking away.

MacCready stuttered, following quickly after her. "You're really just going to walk away like that just didn't happen?" His anger flared tenfold when she only quickened her steps. "What the hell, Boss? Just what the _hell_ was that?" 

"Don't worry about it," she offered, voice thick with exhaustion. 

"Don't worry about it?" MacCready gawked, scoffing incredulously. "Don't worry about what? This isn't just something we can gloss over, he _said-"_

"I know what he said," she whipped around to face him, face just as icy as her tone. A crowd of nosy drifters had shamelessly gathered around them now, hoping to get front-row seats to Goodneighbor's next shootout. Her eyes trialed over them, then down at her feet. "I don't want to talk about it," her voice was defeated, shaky and low. It almost made MacCready sad, if he wasn't so angry. "Please," she whispered it now, looking up at him and his heart thudded painfully at the tears visible in her waterline. "Please, just let it go for now." 

And something in MacCready broke then. Maybe it was her expression, the smallness in her voice and stature, the utter look of shame and pleading in those eyes, but whatever it was-it made every ounce of anger bubbling inside him completely disappear. He let out a long sigh, crossing his arms. "Fine, whatever." Her pleading eyes only intensified and he rolled his eyes. "It's okay, boss. You don't have to say anything. Let's just-try to forget this ever happened, alright?" 

That relieved smile she gave him was infectious as she nodded. "Ye-yeah. Okay, let's go then." She walked a few steps before stopping, looking back at MacCready. "And, it's Margot. If you want."

* * *

"MacCready!" 

He could merely grunt in response as he struggled to kick his leg away from the iron-grip of the alpha mongrel sinking it's fangs into his flesh. 

He wouldn't have even been in this situation if Margot had just fucking _listened_ to him when he said she should take it slow. Get a grip of her surroundings so she'd notice too that something certainly didn't feel right. But, as accustomed to that damn blinding blue vault suit she was still donned in, she obliviously walked straight into a pack of feral mongrels. 

Her screams of pitiful terror stirred MacCready into action, and he whipped out his pistol as he, without thought, ran head-first into the middle of the pack, laying calculated shot after shot into the pack. When he looked back over his shoulder toward his Boss, he noticed with a spike of fear that she was lying prone on the ground, staring at the lot of them in front of her with complete terror in her eyes as her skin paled to a ghost white. Almost scared that she'd been bit, MacCready bit at his jaw, screaming for the mutt's attention as he barreled into the middle of the pack, breaking free from them as he tried leading the remaining few away from her. 

And he'd succeeded in that, until he felt a blinding hot pain in his calf and was suddenly on the ground, hands raised feebly over his head as claws and teeth alike ripped at every inch of his body. He'd managed somehow to kill off most of the mutts turning him into a chew toy with the combat knife he'd kept in his gun belt, but the one that'd kept a bone-crunching grip on his leg was just out of reach, almost paralyzing him under both the unbearable pain and force of those jaws. 

Seeing black spots encroach the corner of his vision, he tried again to reach for the pistol that'd been knocked from his hands when he fell, but the exhaustion pulling at him from the unrelenting pain and blood loss made the efforts even more fruitless. 

The sting of pure panic that _this_ was really how he was about to go, a dog's chew toy, when he'd survived desertion from the most skilled mercenaries in the Commonwealth, a literal childhood full of relentless super mutants attacks and whatever assholes decided kids in a cave were easy pray, survived a whole 22 years in this cruel world, just for all of it to end with a damn dog. He had so much left to do, so many people counting on him, _Duncan_ still needed him. Would Duncan even know he was dead? Or would he just be holding onto that last tendril of hope, continuing to draw all those pretty pictures for the daddy who'd never see them? Hold hope that his daddy would help him, his daddy would save him, his daddy would make him better?

The dread of that thought was just as numbing as the pain, and he let his eyes flutter shut, head dropping to the cold asphalt of the ground as he waited for the dog to eat him alive-

_Bang._

His eyes shot open at the telltale sound of a gun being fired off, instant relief from his leg as the mutt fell limp onto him. Eyes flicking up, he saw his Boss standing there, pistol still raised and smoking at the tip as she stood, panting wildly, tremors racking her body mercilessly as she stared at the space the dog used to fill.

MacCready was the first to make a sound, a pained whine as he tried to extract his maimed leg from under the dog's corpse. That sound seemed to stir Margot into action, and she gasped, dropping the pistol to the floor recklessly as she scrambled to help MacCready, making a pitiful, disgusted whine as she pressed her hands against the corpse's sides and slowly pushing it off him. Immediately, she deposited a stimpak from her armor pocket and jabbed it into his leg, wincing apologetically at the jerking of his hips. She watched as the skin of his wound began stitching back together almost like magic, steady blood flow dissolving to mere drops then nothing, but even after the wound was almost completely healed, she wouldn't meet his eyes. 

"I-i-I'm so, so sorry, MacCready." She finally whispered, voice thick with tears as her body shook violently next to him. "I didn't mean to-I saw when you gave up-I put you in that-I-" she trailed off, sobs breaking free from her as she crumbled up into a ball, curling in on herself and backing away from him. 

MacCready half ignored her breakdown as he moved his leg tentatively to the side, gauging for any extra damage. Despite the small needle pricks he felt when he moved to put pressure on his leg, there was no real discomfort. He sighed, peering over at the crumbled form of his boss. 

He figured the MacCready he knew he was now should probably be more than pissed at her. That MacCready would definitely walk away now before she could get him into an even bigger mess, probably even forfeiting his paycheck to get as far away from this mess as he could.

But for some reason, a reason he couldn't ever figure why, he didn't have the slightest desire to abandon her. For some bizzare reason he felt an overbearing need to feel sorry for her, and to comfort her in her state. He made absolutely no moves to leave her here, slowly limping over to her form and gently grabbing at the wrists hanging over her face like a shroud, pulling them away so that she was forced to look in his face. 

"You're hiding things from me." He said it, not accusingly, but lightly, accepting and almost pleading as he looked into her eyes. 

Her eyes widened momentarily, squinting again as a new wave of tears formed in her eyes. "I don't know how- _he_ was always the one to handle this kind of stuff. Didn't want me near a gun, didn't want me to have to ever have to use one. I don't, I can't-" she paused, shaky breath as she closed her eyes tight and shook her head. "I was a _lawyer,_ for God's sakes! I've never even given a gun a second thought, I never thought I had to with him there, and now he's _**not**_..here-and I can't even protect myself, let alone keep you safe." Her lip quivered violently, something in MacCready's heart twisting painfully as she looked utterly helpless and defeated. "I'm so sorry." 

MacCready didn't respond to that, instead standing slowly and trying to pull her up with him. "Let's go." 

"No, no wait!" She pleaded, shaking her head vehemently and trying to squirm from his grasp. "Wait, at least let me explain myself. I owe you that, at least. Let me tell you." 

He nodded, eyes such a brilliant blue as they clouded complete acceptance and tranquility. "You can, just not here, alright? We need to get out of the open."

She looked around blearily as if she forgot where they even were, finally sucking in a breath and nodding slowly. "Ye-yeah, okay." 

"Okay," MacCready cooed softly, slowly reaching out and draping a supportive arm around her shoulders as he led them toward the nearest shelter they could find.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kinda abrupt action scene and ending, but the next chapter will add some clarity hopefully, as well as give more of an insight to who my sole is now and who she was before everything went to shit. 
> 
> Also, what do y'all think of that name? Margot. I've always really liked that name to be honest, I thought it was equally as beautiful as it is unique and strong. 
> 
> Idk, it could also be shit to others, who knows? 😅
> 
> Thank y'all again for all the support, and again please don't hesitate to leave a comment or kudo to let me know how I did! I promise I don't bite and I thrive off knowing how y'all are liking or not liking the story so far. 
> 
> Until next chapter, stay happy, healthy, and lovely for me! ❤️


End file.
